Detours
by Mals86
Summary: Outtakes and extra scenes taking place in the timeframe of The Long Road Home, in which Tommy Conlon makes the long personal journey from broken to healed. A number of these will be citrusy (but not all).
1. Chapter 1: Giving In

**Detours: Giving In**

**Summary: Tommy gives in to his imagination and his groin, while thinking of Kelly wearing those orange shoes and nothing else. Set between chapters 23 and 24 of TLRH.**

**And yeah. Waaaaay NSFW.**

Goddammit, he can't sleep.

It's been a stressful day, sure, what with Pop being here and Kelly making them all cry with her words to Jack. That's probably part of it, and it's bad enough.

It's the _other_ shit that's driving him nuts, though. Because Kelly kissed him and asked him to go with her to get her tattoo. Because she's so beautiful when she smiles, and when she dances he can't help but picture what she looks like without her clothes on.

And also because Kelly took off her sensible little green flats and put those ridiculous orange shoes on her feet, and because he'd already been thinking inappropriate thoughts about her the shoes only made it worse. She's taller in them. And they make her legs look stretched out, taut, muscles tensed as if she's got her toes pointed.

_That_ did it, that one little mental image: Kelly on her back with her legs in the air, toes pointed, and himself between those taut legs. They're short legs, but long enough to wrap around his back as he drives inside her. Kisses her, strokes her, holds her body close, feels her hands in his hair and digging into his shoulders. Hears her moaning his name.

He hasn't so much as kissed her cheek, and it doesn't seem to matter – his body is as desperate for her as if he's dying of thirst and she is an endless well. Her beautiful round breasts, her little waist, that glorious ass, her toned legs, her pretty mouth and her eerie eyes and her open glad smile, all of it, he wants _all _of her body.

He wants to kiss her. And protect her, take care of her, make her happy.

And he wants to fuck her. Over and over, until they're both blind with it. Until she's come sixteen times and has lost her voice from crying out her pleasure – until she is, undeniably, his. And then again.

Never mind that it will never happen, that she's too smart to take up with a screwed-up loser of a guy like him, he can't help it, he wants her. So bad. He rationalizes that it'll never happen, he knows it will never happen, and since it will never happen, it won't matter if he pretends that it will. His cock doesn't much care whether it will happen or not anyway, it's been uncomfortably swollen ever since her lips touched his cheek this afternoon.

Got worse with the shoes. And when Pop called her "your girl," that created a firestorm of ache and need and want in his chest, because he fucking wants her so fucking _fucking bad, _and it will never happen.

Now, though, he gives in to the desperate mindless demand of his groin. Pushes the sheet back, pulls his sleep shirt up, pushes his boxers down, grabs a handful of tissues from the box on the nightstand, and thinks of her.

It's not the first time he's done this. That one day they all had dinner at her house, and he'd spent the time looking at pictures of her family, smelling the odors of her house (the food in the kitchen and the lime in his drink, lemon oil and her perfume and heaven brownies), watching her dance. Eating one bite of that brownie... hoping nobody noticed his hard-on... wondering what she'd taste like... of course he'd done this that night. Just to relieve the pressure, just a biological necessity – except it wasn't. Except in his fantasy, he'd been kissing her as he pressed inside her. She'd touched his face and said his name, "Come on, Conlon," and she'd been smiling, happy to be with him, "Kiss me, Tommy," and he'd shot a wad practically a foot into the air, he'd gotten so wound up.

Not even thinking about specifically what her tits looked like. Fuck, he'd been out of control.

So now here he is, thinking of her again – in more detail this time. This time she's naked, of course, except for those ridiculous orange shoes. She's on her back, legs up in the air, muscles straining, and he can hear her voice moaning, _oh yeah_, and his hand tightens on his cock as in his mind he pushes inside her, strokes her inside, and she is hot there, such wet heat on him, such pressure and friction, _fuck yes Kelly. _She feels so good, so good, and he strokes faster. In his mind he's got his hands under her hips now, really driving in, pounding against her softness, she tells him how good he feels and moans again, her nipples gone tight against his chest, and _oh fuck, fuck, Christ yes, fucking yes_, he's biting his own hand to stifle his groan as his other hand feels the swell of his dick just before the end, before he loses control.

He comes back to awareness of himself, feeling his own legs relaxing from their tenseness, his toes uncurling. Also to the knowledge that he has just blown a massive load all over his own stomach and chest. He wipes that up, thinking _that was... whoa... a lot_, and being glad he'd grabbed several tissues.

He should have done this in the shower.

He should have been thinking of someone else, a woman with no name, maybe even no face, because he is so clearly unsuitable boyfriend material. Maybe he'll have to go back to his old trick of picking up girls at bars... except he can't drink right now and he doesn't really have the cash for haunting bars at night anyway. Well, shit.

Because even if he did drink, if he did have the cash to keep a prospect in fruity drinks all night until he can take her home, it still wouldn't do him any good.

He'd still want Kelly.

Fucking fucking hell. He can't have her, he shouldn't want her, he wants her anyway. The word that keeps popping into his head is love. Which is stupid, but his body doesn't seem to care.


	2. Chapter 2: Practice Making Babies

**Detours: Practice Making Babies**

**By request of Miss Wynter! This one takes place between the events of Chapter 67 and 68 of The Long Road Home (reference made in ch. 68). Not all the Detours will be NSFW, but this one sure is.**

They've spent the day packing up more stuff; the difficult part of it seems to be Kelly deciding what she can do without and what she'll need for one more week. She'll bite her lip and say, "But what if – " out loud, and then she'll blow out a sigh and shake her head, and say, "No, pack it." One time out of ten she'll decide she needs it to stay.

Tommy's getting a little frustrated with it, but she's at least rational about possessions. She could own a hell of a lot more stuff than she does.

And all the time they're doing this, he's thinking about Tess. He'd been checking her out surreptitiously last night, since Brendan told him she's gonna have a little one in the spring. He can't see a baby bump yet, but it's cold and she's been wearing heavier clothes than she had been, long tunic sweaters over her jeans, so he just can't tell. He's going to be an uncle again, which is pretty awesome.

And yet... some little ache is pulling at him. Will he ever get to hold a baby that came from his own body? And why does that matter so much? Jack and Martin, they're great. Emily and Rosie – and this new baby – they're family. It's not like his DNA is going the way of the dinosaur.

But still.

"Earth to Tommy," Kelly says, waving a hand in front of his face. "You in there?"

"Yeah."

"I said, I think we've packed up everything in the bedrooms that we won't need until after Christmas. Let's take a break, okay?"

"Good. I'm hungry. It's nearly six-thirty."

She laughs and kisses his cheek. "Okay, let me finish up making dinner – won't be long, thank God for crockpots! - and I'll feed you."

At dinner he looks around the table at the faces of what's going to be his family. _This is gonna be so great. It's great right now, but it's only gonna be better. _ He listens to Jack telling the basic plotline of some book he's reading, about mythical Rangers working for a king somewhere, looks at Martin hanging on his big brother's words. Looks at Kelly's smile. Yep. Gonna be even better.

After they've put all this week's boxes-to-be-moved in his truck and covered them with the tarp, and after they've tucked the boys in, he stretches out on the couch with Kelly to watch TV. There's no movie on they want to watch, and finally he just leaves it on some station rebroadcasting a football game he's not interested in, just for the background noise. Maybe it'll keep him from thinking too much about making love to her. It's been three weeks since their trip to Kansas City, and despite his plan to try to make it to the wedding without giving in, just being near her makes him want her.

He should just kiss her goodnight and go back to Brendan and Tess' house. Should. Really should. Instead, he stays. Plays with her hair. Inhales the smell of her, feels her softness against his side.

What would it be like, to see her round-bellied with a child? _His _child.

Kelly kisses him, strokes his head and down to his shoulder, running her fingers along his collarbone.

They've never talked about it. It's not a dealbreaker if she doesn't want more kids – he'd still want her and only her, and he'll certainly get the opportunity to take a father role. (And not suck at it. He hopes.) But all the same, there's still a little dream in his heart of holding his own baby, some little person he helped make.

So he asks her what she thinks.

And she makes it clear that she wants to make babies with him. On top of everything good there already is between them, she would like to take him inside her, deeper than any other woman has, and make a whole other life out of their own shared lives, a whole other body out of their own bodies. "I want to do everything with you," he whispers, feeling the need to be joined to her like a fire in his blood. Like a consuming hunger.

She's feeling it too, because she immediately goes up on her elbow to lean over him and kiss his mouth, so deep and sweet, and to swing her legs over his. She's only wearing leggings, not jeans, so she can feel how hard he's gotten just in the last thirty seconds."Not yet," she whispers. "At least a year before we start trying, please?"

"Sounds fair," he says. "But let's practice now." He runs his hands up under her long gray sweater to unhook her bra, and then cup her breasts, feeling the nipples springing up tight under his fingers. She's said yes to babies, or at least one, down the road – he can wait awhile to actually make one.

What he can't do at the moment is keep his hands off her, the way she's kissing him. Thank God he's wearing sweatpants right now, too, it's easier. He's thinking it won't be tough to just slip inside her discreetly right here, with their loose clothing and the only light in the room from the TV, but she's got other ideas. She wants his thermal shirt off and his sweatpants, and she strips her own clothes off without a second thought, and the need gets bigger. She's breathing hard, really being handsy and almost aggressive with him, moving to take him in her mouth and then to retake her position with her legs spread atop him, rubbing her wet, silky core against him, _Jesus Christ, so hot_. She does that twice, panting out little moans, and then she leans up close to his ear to say, "Take me. Please."

That's that, he's not holding back any more. Fuck yeah.

In fifteen seconds, he's got her flipped to her back on the couch, her legs apart, and he's balls-deep inside her and fighting hard not to come _right now_. She makes a frustrated noise, writhing under him, and he hisses, "Be. _Still._" through his teeth. She whines again and slips a hand down between them as he thinks about completely unsexy things – like math, like carburetors and sweaty locker rooms – until he can move without losing his shit.

Now that he's got control of himself again, she's right on the verge of losing hers, her head tipped backwards and her tits thrust up to the ceiling, nipples pebbled, and her hips moving under him. She's keeping it quiet – well, quiet for her – but she's moaning almost nonstop, and when he presses his hips down and grinds into her a few strokes she's _gone,_ crying out into her arm to stifle the noise, her center pulling rhythmically at him. A lot of times he'd be gone himself at this point, but holding off so hard a minute ago has given him some stamina back, and he grinds into her some more. Which she loves. Which he knows she loves.

She opens her eyes halfway, looking pleased, murmuring encouraging things, and he can tell when she gets close again because her breathing picks up. Her eyes close, her fingers dig into his shoulders and her thighs get tense. He stays where he is, even though his most basic urge is to pull away a little, enough to thrust hard into her. Judging by those soft feminine grunts, it's going to be soon. He reaches down under her and pulls her hips up, pulls her tighter to him, and the increased friction drives her crazy. She moans, "Oh, _God,_" and her nails bite into his deltoids as her inner walls clench and release again.

The feeling of masculine power is incredible. He's just fucked her into two orgasms, and he can go awhile longer so why not make it good for her again? He pulls his weight off her a little, letting her breathe, just thrusting gently to stay hard.

Her eyes open again, glazed with pleasure. He can't help grinning at how dazed she looks, almost drugged out. "You like that," he says to her, too genuinely happy about it to be smug. "Want some more?"

"_Oh _yeah," she says, and finally seems to realize that she's made deep fingernail marks in his skin. "God, I'm sorry, didn't mean to carve you up like that."

"Yes, you did," he says. "But 'sokay, I'm gonna mark you up too. _Mine_." And he leans down and begins to kiss along her shoulder and collarbone, down to just above her breast. Not cool to do it on her neck when she has to go to work on Monday, but this spot will be hidden by clothes; only she will see it. He begins to suck at the soft skin there, egged on by the little moan she makes.

He's still pumping in and out, short shallow strokes all slow and tender, as he sucks the mark into her skin, listening to her soft gasps and feeling her hand in his hair. Without breaking away he reaches for one of her hands and brings it down between them, moving her hand to stroke at that nub of nerve endings. She moans again, this time his name, and begins to rub herself there. He can tell, right now, that when he does come it's going to feel like the breaking of Hoover Dam, just huge.

But not yet. Not nearly yet. When she comes the third time it's gentle, not as explosive as the first two, but his mind has started producing some really erotic images, of Kelly pregnant with his baby, her belly just starting to swell out and her nipples very prominent, darker than usual. "Mine," he says again, stopping the hickey to suck at her breasts for a moment or two.

"Yours," she echoes, husky-voiced and languid, and he moves back to get some more leverage for thrusting harder. "You want that, don't you? You want everybody to know I'm yours. That you're the one doing these things to me, you're my man."

"Fuck yeah," he says, and grips her ass tighter, letting his fingertips squeeze the soft shapes of her. She gets it – it's the proof, the evidence of his own virility, that's really getting to him now. Maybe it's cliché, he doesn't fucking care, he just wants it obvious: _Mine. My woman. My baby inside my woman. I put it there. _No, not yet. But someday.

And now, finally, just thinking about getting her knocked up, he's _really _crazy for her. He picks her legs up and puts them on his shoulders, and it tightens everything up, and he thrusts harder, feeling that little spongy place inside her swell up. She moans again, grabs his forearms and holds tight. "I love you," he tells her. He speeds up for the first time tonight, seeing her eyes go glazed again before she closes them and bites her lip. _Oh yeah. Oh fuck yeah, shit, déjame dartelo mami 'cause I'm gonna come so fucking hard –_

She does. Again. She says his name, groans it really, and her body clamps down on him, squeezing and releasing, and he leans forward onto her, trying to last until she's done. He can't. Winds up biting into her shoulder as the Hoover Dam fucking collapses and he pours everything he's got into her. _Mine mine mine._

It takes him several minutes to start breathing normally again, and longer to realize that she's crying. "Baby, what? You okay?"

"I love you so much," she whispers, and pulls his head down for a kiss.

"Can't love me more than I love you," he says. "Not possible." Her mouth tastes so sweet. He kisses her for a long time before he comes up for air.

She holds his face in both hands. "Did you seriously just call me 'mommy'?"

"No. _Mami_, like 'hot mama.' It's not literal." She raises one eyebrow. "Oh, come on. You don't take it literally when I call you 'baby,' either."

She smiles, finally. "True. But I had no idea you would get off so much on the idea of putting me up the spout. Wow. You go caveman much?" And just as he's started to be a little bit offended she laughs out loud. "Never mind, I just remembered who I was talking to."

"Caveman," he repeats, sourly. Okay, maybe so. He was pretty primal just now.

"It was actually really hot, seeing you that excited," she says softly. "You couldn't tell what that was doing to me too?"

"Did you really come four times?"

She shivers, closing her eyes briefly. "Oh, my _God_, yes. Can't wait until we do it for real."

That makes _him _shiver, and she kisses him again while his eyes are closed. "I really love you."


	3. Chapter 3 Mom's Wedding Ring

**Detours: Mom's Wedding Ring**

**This outtake was originally set the weekend of Kelly and Tommy's engagement (Chapter 66), while they were eating lunch at Paddy's. I excised it because a) it didn't really fit and b) Tommy's too angry in it. But it's background that I think might have been echoing in the scene – the new ring on Kelly's hand and the facts of what happened to Mrs. Conlon's ring.  
**

**At this stage, Tommy has not yet learned how to let the past go completely. Yes, he's forgiven Paddy, but he hasn't quite got the hang of letting all the anger go when it pops up again. Sometimes you have to forgive over and over, just for your own peace of mind, and Tommy is still in the process of really getting that. He WILL get it, with practice.**

**So why is it here? I suppose because I really love the picture of this 17-year-old kid sacrificing his personal goals to take care of someone else's needs. The loyalty of it and the matter-of-fact doing what must be done. There's a sweetness to that action.**

Tommy's sick of it, feeling Pop's eyes on him and on Kelly's hand. Feeling Pop hold back from saying whatever sarcastic belittling shit that he's not saying right now, probably to be polite to Kelly. He's sick of feeling Pop's disapproval, disappointment, whatever the fuck it is. "Why don't you go ahead and say whatever it is you wanna say, Pop. I've taken enough offa you over the years, I'm tired of the suspense."

Pop's surprised – and not surprised. "Well, don't beat around the bush, son." Same old sarcasm, Pop being his tough-as-shit jarhead self. Tommy holds his gaze.

"Don't say it if you're gonna be tearin' each other up with it," Kelly says softly. "Please."

"Go ahead," Tommy says to Pop. _I can take anything you dish out._

"All right. I was gonna ask... I was hoping that you were able to bury your mother with her... wedding ring." Pop's voice keeps faltering out as he says it. But he gets it out, and there's Tommy having to pick up his own damn gauntlet now, forcing tears back.

"No." He throws that down, too, yanking Pop's chain before he tells what happened. He will never completely give up yanking Pop's chain a little; Pop yanked his often enough. "No, she sold it. We needed the cash."

Pop flinches. Tommy tells him the good, damning, details. "It was after she got sick enough that she had to stop working. She couldn't carry a tray across the diner, it made her short of breath. So they let her go. We paid the rent, barely, by skipping food and electricity."

"Why – " Pop starts to ask, and then he shuts up. Like he can't get the words through his throat.

"She begged me not to call you." Saying it, telling Pop after all this time, it feels like getting off a really satisfying smack to an opponent's face. Right in the nose, bam, with the immediate fountain of blood.

Saying it also makes him feel sort of sick, like he enjoyed it too much. And it's not the whole story, either. Pop's face says he needs the rest, he needs it bad, and only Tommy can give it to him. He sniffs, regaining what composure he can.

"It was the last personal thing she sold for cash, the last thing to go. She didn't cry in front of me. But that apartment was one room plus a little box of a bathroom in the corner, so there wasn't any place to go for privacy. She cried at night. And everything I ate that week, and the next – it all tasted like ashes."

He looks across to Kelly, whose face is full of sorrow and encouragement, and tells her the other part of it. "I got my schedule changed at school, and I got permission to leave at lunch for work-study. I worked thirty hours a week at the grocery store, and I worked out a deal with the manager so I could take part of my pay in food at cost. That left me enough to pay the rent."

There's a little silence. "Proud of you, son," Pop says, so softly it's almost a whisper. "I know you'll be a better husband than I was." He gets up from the table, taking plates with him.

Tommy is still looking at Kelly. Kelly's eyes are open and deep, unwavering. Soft. Her beautiful eyes... pale as winter sky. How can eyes that color look so warm? But they do. "You did good," she says, also very softly.

He shrugs. What else could he have done?

"Come on, show me the photos in here." She gets out of her chair. "I don't think your dad wants company in the kitchen right now so I won't go offer to do dishes." They go into the living room together and he just holds her hand while she looks at all of the framed photos on the desk and on the wall.

"I shouldn't have told him," he says, suddenly sure of it. "I should have either called him then or never told him."

"Go tell him you're sorry." She turns back to him with understanding in her eyes, but a challenge too. "You guys have to quit beatin' each other up."

He nods, slowly, not looking at her.


	4. Chapter 4: Tess Makes an Announcement

**Detours: Tess Makes an Announcement**

**Set in the few days following the events of Chapter 61, in which Brendan and Tess and the girls visit Pittsburgh to see their respective parents and have a look at the house Tommy's thinking about buying.**

Rosie pouts for a long time after her Uncle Tommy's said his perfunctory goodbye and left them after Mass. She's got that little pink lip stuck out and her arms crossed, and she's making her completely adorable Unhappy Face, the one that cracks Tess up every time. Tess knows what's wrong, but she asks Rosie anyway.

"I wanted Uncle Tommy to have lunch with us," Rosie says, and sticks her lower lip out again.

Tess disciplines her face. "Uncle Tommy had things to do, sweetie. Look, if you want to, we can use my phone to send him a message. Tell me what you want to say and I'll tell him, okay?"

"I wanna talk to him!"

But Tess has recognized the signs that Tommy's had just about enough for the time being, and although she doesn't _think_ he'd snap at his niece, she doesn't want to push him either. Not when he so clearly needs to be somewhere else for the moment, to center himself a little. "No, honey, let's just send him a message. He can send us one back later. So what do you want to say?"

"I miss him." And this time Rosie's lips quiver. "I wanted to give him Bus. Because he has to be by himself, and he will be _only_."

Bus is a small stuffed elephant, mostly blue with yellow ears and orange tummy, and he's been a favorite of Rosie's for a couple of years now. He's had his ears sucked, been swung by his stubby tail, been dropped in the sandbox, been dropped in the bathtub... you name it. He looks it, too, suffering from too much kid love the way the Velveteen Rabbit did, all grimy and mussed. Rosie doesn't go anywhere overnight without Bus and her small stuffed purple hippo, named Hippo Rae.

"'Only'?" Tess asks, pulling out her cell phone. She's pretty sure Tommy doesn't need Bus around, but she thinks he might like to know that Rosie offered one of her favorite snuggle things. "What do you mean by that, sweetheart?"

"_You_ know. When you're sad 'cause you're by yourself."

"Do you mean 'lonely'?" Tess pulls up Tommy's cell number on her phone and starts to text him.

"Yes. Only." Rosie nods firmly. Tess looks at her younger daughter and has to blink tears out of her eyes. Tommy _has_ been 'only,' for a long long time, and it's just now that he's starting to not be. Also, Tess is just over-the-top emotional these days.

She reminds Rosie that Uncle Tommy has Bagel now, and he has Grandpop nearby, and that Mommy is quite sure Uncle Tommy wouldn't want Bus to miss Rosie.

Rosie thinks about that, head on one side, and then she smiles. "He can hug Bagel if he is sad, Mommy, Bagel is a good doggie. And Bus might be sad wifout me."

"That's right, I think Bus should stay with you. But I know Uncle Tommy would like to know that you were thinking about him, okay? I'll tell him."

"Okay," Rosie agrees, and finally goes to her grandmother to be fussed over a little, to have her skirt straightened and her cheek kissed.

Tess sends Tommy a text describing the conversation and slips her cell phone back into her purse. She needs to eat, and soon, or she's going to have the kind of low blood sugar episode that gives you the dry heaves. She really should take a test this afternoon when they get home, but she's fairly certain she is pregnant. Brendan looks at her, a little worried, and she slips her arm through his. "Can we go eat? I'm starving."

Her mother hears it, and flashes her a smug, Mona Lisa smile before saying to her father and to Paddy, "Well, let's go feed the ravening horde."

"Oh, Helen, you don't have to put yourself out. We just ate," Brendan says, apparently remembering the bountiful breakfast with satisfaction.

"Not enough," her mother says, cheerful at the prospect of feeding a group of people. "Come on, I'll make soup and sandwiches before you have to take off for Philly."

When they do finally get on the road Tess dozes off, only waking when her cell phone rings. She gropes for it in her purse, still dazed with sleep. "H'lo?"

"Hey, it's Tommy. You guys on the way back to Philly?"

"Uh-huh." She yawns. Mouths "Tommy" at Brendan's questioning face.

"Bet the kids are asleep in the back seat, right?" Tommy asks, a smile in his voice.

"You know it," she says, starting to wake up now. "I was, too."

"Sorry 'bout that. So Rosie was worried about me? She actually wanted me to have Bus?"

"Yep." Tess smiles – not just at how sweet her second baby is, but also at how Tommy got the important part of it, that Rosie was willing to share her favorite lovey with her uncle. "She was afraid you were going to be 'only,' by which she means 'lonely.' It was pretty sweet. I convinced her you would be fine because you have Bagel."

"That's awesome. She's a doll," Tommy says, the smile in his voice getting bigger. "Well, hey, I'll call her later and tell her thank you. And Emily too, I missed my Em. After supper, you think? Like seven?"

"That would be good," she tells him. "Tommy? Are you okay? Was it too much for everybody to be there this weekend?"

There's a little silence before he answers. "Nah. It's Father Moran, I have a hard time bein' around him."

"I see," Tess says, putting that together with Brendan's obvious discomfort with the older priest and coming up with The Ugly Past. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. And hey, thanks for helpin' me with everything. The house and stuff, you know, the ring." He sounds awkward and diffident, but under that is a shyer version of the affection in his voice when he talks to the girls.

"You are welcome," she tells him, putting the affection into her own voice.

"Okay. Tell Brendan to keep it in the road, and I'll talk to ya later."

She clicks her phone shut and gives Brendan the message about his driving, which makes him roll his eyes – and then smile. "Ah, my charming baby brother... getting mouthy the way he used to. Annoying." There's a little pause, and then he admits, "I kinda love it, him talking like a smartass to me, instead of like I'm somebody he has to be nice to."

"Trust," Tess agrees.

After the kids are in bed that night, after she's done what she needed to do in the bathroom and curled up in bed with her husband – she prepares to tell him. "Guess what?"

He's sleepy, but like always he turns to listen to her, cuddle her in one arm. "What, babe?"

"Remember how we were saying it would be nice to have another baby?" This is not news. Brendan has thrown himself rather _enthusiastically_ into Project Baby #3. She's just taken the test: a blue cross in the Result window. Positive. "Well, we're gonna get one."

"Good," he says, emphatic but soft. He leans over to kiss her tenderly. "I kinda hoped.I noticed you getting tired all the time. And you haven't been having coffee in the mornings – I know the smell makes you feel sick when you're pregnant. And I did sort of notice that you weren't, um, unavailable at any point this last month."

Of course he'd notice, they've pretty much been making love every night. She kisses him back. "I love looking at little combinations of us," she confesses. "I love it that this new little life comes out of us loving each other. That is just so awesome."

"I know," he says, with so much love in his voice that tears come to her eyes. "Babe, do you feel okay?"

"I feel fine. Better than fine." She pulls his head down so she can kiss him, and all the loving swells up around them, pulling them in, enveloping them. So it's almost like a dream of making love, the sense she has that time is suspended and every single motion is inevitable. It is inevitable than his mouth should be urgent and tender and erotic on her neck and her breasts, inevitable that his fingers should seek out her secret places. It does not surprise her that he should settle between her thighs and feel so good there, solid and hot and completely masculine, the half that makes her whole. It is as sure as gravity that she should hold him close and their bodies should move together in a dance of pleasure, in the happiness of being that whole thing together. It is as expected, and as beautiful, as the spinning of the earth creating day and night that their moving bodies should reach that point of completion and wholeness, too, that they should clutch each other in excitement and joy and sweetness, that their pleasure would be complete.

Afterward she nudges her head into his chest, feeling his heartbeat begin finally to slow. "I love you," she says. It's unnecessary, because she's just told him with her body, but it's part of that act as well.

"I love you, Tess," he whispers back. "I'm so happy."

* * *

They wait another month to make the official announcement, wanting to make sure that the pregnancy is well underway and developing properly. Kelly, however, has it figured out within the next ten days. She and the boys are over for dinner mid-week, a few days after they've started the wedding planning, and after dinner Tess falls into her usual I'm-so-sleepy slump.

The phenomenon usually passes at about this point in Tess' pregnancies, but it's that one last week of not being able to keep her eyes open, and Kelly picks up on it. She and Brendan clear the table and load the dishwasher, ignoring Tess' yawning protests that she can do it, she's fine, they don't have to. Kelly turns away from the kitchen counter toward Tess and asks, "Want me to make a pot of coffee so you can stay awake while we look at these catering menus?"

Tess can't hide her immediate _ugh, coffee _reaction, and Kelly laughs out loud. "Never mind, sweetie. You nap a little, I'll get the kids settled with an episode of Oceans Blue, and then we'll talk wedding food."

_Mmmm_, Tess says, and dozes off for ten minutes there at her kitchen table, head on her crossed arms. When she wakes up, Kelly's sitting in the chair next to her with the folders, looking happily smug. "Better?"

"Much," Tess tells her, and reaches for the catering menus.

"Looks like you're getting well into this baking project of yours," Kelly says, still smirking, and Tess is still so loopy from her nap that she just stares a little, making the confused eyebrows. What on earth is Kelly talking about, _what_ "baking project"? Kelly ducks her head to look dead into Tess' eyes, and says, "Bun in the oven. Am I right?"

And Tess laughs out loud.

"I mean, unless my diagnostic skills have somehow atrophied, you just have that _look_," Kelly says. "And you just made a face when I suggested coffee. And Tommy told me that when you were in the 'Burgh recently you turned down a beer at dinner. SO." She shrugs a little, smiling. "You get sleepy at the dinner table and I start thinking baby on board."

Tess can't stop smiling. "Yes. In the spring. I haven't told anybody but Brendan yet."

"Well, technically you didn't tell me, so I'll keep it under wraps until you're ready," Kelly says, and leans over to kiss her cheek. "Very happy for you, honey."

They go through the catering menus, Kelly selecting very quickly what she wants for the wedding, and while she's making notes Tess asks, "So, you and Tommy planning any kids?" It's not_ just _nosiness, she tells herself. Given that Kelly's always been a very devoted mother and that Tommy loves kids so much, certainly they'll have plans of some kind, whether it's that the boys are enough or that they'd like to have more.

Kelly goes pink. "We... haven't discussed it." Tess gives her a look of consternation. Surely it's important enough to be a topic of conversation? "I know," Kelly says, ruefully. "We should have already. But the thing is, I think it's up to him. It's not a dealbreaker because I'm okay either way."

"You don't have a preference?" Tess asks her, going to the fridge to get them some water.

"I'd like for us to have a baby together," Kelly says, and the softness on her face says she's thought about it. "But if he doesn't want that, then I am fine with my sweet boys. He loves them too, you know."

"I know." Tess has seen Tommy's face when he plays with the kids – Kelly's boys and Tommy's nieces. "Want to make a bet?"

Kelly shakes her head, vehemently. "No. Can't bet. I think I have to let him bring it up, too. I don't want him to think I'm pushing one way or the other. Because baby or not, we're together. Solid."

And Tess smiles at Kelly – her friend, her confidant. Her soon-to-be sister-in-law. Thank God they'd both been out walking the streets of Maple Heights six years ago, both crying, sisters before they even knew each other.

**Bus the Beanie Baby elephant, by the way, actually belonged to my youngest kid when he was the same age as Rosie. GOD HELP US if Bus got left at home for an overnight trip. Heaven only knows where the name came from, but although Bus doesn't sleep on the bed anymore, he is still a cherished lovey. **

**Hippo Rae, on the other hand, belonged to my daughter. (Go ahead, say it out loud. I dare you not to laugh.) And it was Rae, not Ray, named after one of my daughter's friends. She always had interesting names for her snugglies: she had a penguin called Posh and a bear she named Hug. Hug the Bear, it still kills me. In fact, I think Hug is probably sitting on her dorm room bed right now.**


End file.
